


Toxic

by pushkin666



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Abusive!Patrick, Bandslash, D/s, Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes love heals. sometimes it breaks you further. Unfortunately for Pete it's the latter.</p><p>So I tend to like writing abusive!Patrick.  This was my first attempt at it.</p><p>Patrick likes to abuse Pete. Pete needs it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toxic

[ ](http://s91.photobucket.com/albums/k316/pushkin666/Misc/?action=view&current=0000kh52.jpg)

 

He hangs on tightly to the sofa arm, obeying Patrick's quiet instructions, leaning his head until it rests on the harsh fabric. He always finds it strange; Patrick, who can be both violent and loud in public when provoked, is always quiet here, his words spoken softly.. Words that only Pete ever hears. Pete knows better than to disobey though, he learnt very early on that it was a ... bad idea.

Once, he thought this was something he needed. Thought he needed to be hurt, to be made to feel. He believed it would help him escape from the reality of life. He'd foolishly thought it might even help him wean himself away from the anti-depressant tablets. He never imagined it would be like this: caught in a symbiotic relationship; his pain and distress feeding Patrick, and Pete ... what does he get from this? He no longer knows. The only thing that is clear to him these days is that he belongs to Patrick. He has no choice in the matter.

He had tried to get away. The infamous 'incident' was his final chance to escape, death being preferable to this. He wishes he'd succeeded. Even moving in with his parents proved to be no escape. Patrick visited him on a daily basis, his concern and distress at the state Pete was in sitting well with Pete's parents. But then, why shouldn't they trust Patrick? Everybody did and they'd known him for years now, he is, after all, Pete's best friend! And for his part, Pete is the only person to see this side of Patrick. Each day Patrick would arrive, close the bedroom door after telling Pete's mother she should go out and get a break; Patrick would stay and look after Pete. She was always so grateful for the respite, thanking Patrick, kissing them both before leaving them alone.

Now, Pete closes his eyes and shudders, remembering the look on Patrick's face as he had turned to face him. That terrible look of desolation as he looked Pete over, as if wondering what could have driven Pete to do something like this. Never understanding how much of the responsibility was his.

Sometimes Pete feels like a butterfly whose wings have been torn off, the other man finding beauty in his damaged state, his inability to fly away. He feels as though he is dying slowly, his personality changing little by little until he becomes what Patrick desires. He will be Patrick's' creation, his thoughts and actions governed by what he thinks Patrick might want. He never imagined he would fear his friend, but he does.

He trembles as Patrick's strong fingers skim over his hipbones. Patrick is an expert at this; reading and playing his body. He knows exactly where to push down and cause maximum pain; how to hurt Pete without marking him, how to find those places that bruise the easiest. The purple and black marks where his fingers have pressed are a delight to him. Patrick likes to trace the marks with his mouth, his lips and tongue following the trail made by his hands, his clever fingers. His smile afterwards always makes Pete sick.

Often the bruises are hidden by his tattoos, only visible to the two of them. Patrick surreptitiously touches them when he can, smiling as Pete shivers. Pete thinks he is lucky that Patrick doesn't use anything else to harm him, other than his own body. Patrick's hands, mouth, mouth and voice are weapons enough.

Patrick's fingers dig into his hips, pressing him down into the sofa. He trembles as Patrick's lips caress his belly like a gentle breeze across the frozen steppes. It is always cold when he's with Patrick; no matter how hot the other's body might be.  
*

Patrick's hands are moving now; twisting against his body, sharp fingernails dragging across his skin, marking him. It burns; both the pleasure and the pain and he is addicted to it. Pete closes his eyes and arches up sharply, mouth open, begging in wordless moans as Patrick bites down.

Patrick moves up his body, pressing him deeper into the sofa, surrounding him, covering him. His clothes brush roughly against Pete's naked body as he holds him down. Pete knows that Patrick is gazing down at him, the way he grips the sofa, the look on his face. He almost comes from the thought but that, like everything else, is Patrick's to control.

"Look at me." Patrick's voice is dark, as dark as Pete knows his eyes will be; dark with want and possession, as they always are when they see Pete.

"Look at me," he repeats and Pete obeys ... as always.


End file.
